


and i will let the river wash me clean

by elifish



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Eating Disorders, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 01:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2173431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elifish/pseuds/elifish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ian has an eating disorder. it's mickey's fault. vaguely canon divergent, vaguely canon compliant. currently set after frank finds out and mickey goes back to juvie. we'll see how it goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and i will let the river wash me clean

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for this chapter are lighter since it's the preface-- weight talk, food, drugs, some light violence. it's short and it's not very descriptive. this is the preface; i promise it's gonna get longer and it's gonna get better. it will also get darker. this is a dark fic. this is not a happy fic. this is not a fic that is intended to be thinspo, please do not use it as thinspo. please be careful with yourself and be kind to yourself. don't read this fic if it's stuff that fucks you up. be smart about this. xo

Ian had always been skinny. Wiry, gangly, ropes of muscles shifting under a thin layer of skin as he moved. His clothes, hand-me-downs from Lip and Kev and sometimes from Frank, always fit loosely, curtains hanging from his shoulders and jeans held up by a worn out belt.

Puberty was slow to arrive, but it was hard on him: joint pain was constant for months, his voice cracked every other word, hairs pushed out of armpits. His clothes started shrinking and he put on more weight, a layer of fat surrounding the muscle that had always been there. He let out holes in his belt weekly, flitting past the ones Fiona had punched through the leather and into the beginning of the pre-made ones and then all the way to the end. He ate ravenously, guiltily sneaking into the kitchen at night and eating until he was full to bursting. Fiona chuckled at his appetite, made a comment about growing boys; Lip grinned and shot out, “Yeah, but aren’t they supposed to be growing up and not out?” He mimed a huge belly around his own waist and blew out his cheeks while Fiona went back to cleaning up dinner. Ian rolled his eyes and ran upstairs, tossing a hurried “Thanks Fee!” after him.

He started fucking Kash and then Mickey, and Mickey was hot. He was all fire and ice, voice and hands rough and hurried. When they were high on pot they fucked slow like molasses, lazy handjobs in the back of the Gallagher van or in Mickey’s room or in the dugout. When Mickey scored coke they got keyed up, itching for a fight and a fuck. They were rough and bloody and frantic and Ian could taste it, iron and come in Mickey’s mouth, dirt and sweat on his body. They fought a lot, bruises and scratches peppering their bodies, claiming each other and hating each other in the same breath. Whatever Mickey said or wouldn’t say, Ian was his, Ian belonged to him wholly and entirely and it burned inside of him, comfortable fire in his stomach and his chest and his toes.

And then Mickey, Mickey shut himself in jail on purpose, to get away from him, because Ian wasn’t enough. Could never be enough.


End file.
